Who out there would climb a mountain
to drink in life?
who signs his name upon the line
establishing his dominance?
I have buried more in these lands
held hands with death and smiled,
have walked a lonely pilgrimage,
to what ends,
I ask of myself.
But if climbing, falling or
dying is our calling then
we must adhere
to the plan,
but a man has
to wonder
about the wonder all around him,
times being grim and no fairy tale
no breadcrumbs to mark the trail
we take,
we make our tracks.
© 2020, John Smallshaw.
